


You Belong With Me

by bookspazz



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Kissing, F/M, Mutually Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:17:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookspazz/pseuds/bookspazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eponine and Grantaire both love other people and they know they love other people. But sometime sympathy helps every once in a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good

The outside air was cold and Eponine knew that her fingers were probably frozen solid but she really didn’t want to bother noticing that. Her stomach felt warm and buzzed; it made her want to laugh. Grantaire’s laughter echoed around the empty streets and near her ears.  
“SHE WEARS SHORT SKIRTS I WEAR TEEE-SHIRTS! SHE’S CHEER CAPTAIN AND IIII’M-“ he stopped mid belt to catch his breath and lean on Eponine. He’d been half skipping, half tripping as he sang Taylor Swift at the top of his lungs. They both burst out laughing, filling the empty street with noise. Eponine stumbled over to a tree and leaned up against it.  
“Oh my gooohd” she said, bursting into giggles again.  
Grantaire nodded his head lazily as he leaned forward against the bark of the tree, “yeeeaaaah that’s what I was thinking.”  
“You belong with me!” Eponine shouted and the shout was echoed by Grantaire. They burst into giggles again.  
“Oh Taylor” Grantaire shook his head, “You’re the only one who truly understands me.”  
“Musical genius.” Eponine said, nodding. Her hair slipped into her eyes and she tried to blow it out of her face. When it did little more than pop up and flop back down, Eponine burst into giggles.  
Grantaire ran a hand through his hair, still leaning against the tree with his other hand. He was having trouble holding himself up so he was almost on top of Eponine at this point. “Wow, Enjolras, what an ass right?” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes and looking almost hesitantly up at Eponine. Eponine nodded approval as vigorously as she could manage.  
“Yup yeah. So right.” She slurred.  
Today had been a particularly “bad day” for the both of them. Eponine had spent the afternoon third wheeling Marius and Cosette. She had a project to do with Marius for class but Cosette tagged along to be helpful. What made it worse was that she had been helpful, an absolute delight, but that didn’t help the disgusting displays of affection that had come Eponine’s way.  
For Grantaire the day had started out okay. Enjolras had trusted him with an errand for Les Amis. He was only supposed to print and pass out fliers that declared the need for social revolution which shouldn’t have been that hard. Instead he’d run to a bar for a few hours, always with the intention of doing it just a bit later. He’d gotten a good scolding from Enjolras to say the least. When Grantaire had tried to tell him that he’d only wanted to help, Enjolras had started yelling and asked him why he even bothered to stick around if he clearly didn’t give a shit.  
So Eponine and Grantaire had found each other in their dorm and seen the sunken looks in each other’s eyes. Grantaire had said “Drink?” and Eponine had said “yes please.” And “drink” had turned into several drinks here they were, giggling and falling all over each other by a park on their way home.  
“And Marius, can you believe it?” Eponine asked.  
“What an idiot. Doesn’t have eyes to see what he’s missing. You’re a blast.” Grantaire said, putting the hand that wasn’t keeping him from falling over on Eponine’s shoulder. “Way better than that Cosette girl amiright?”  
Eponine laughed. “Oh yeah definitely. YOU BELONG WITH ME!” She shouted again. And Grantaire echoed her.  
Then they were silent, Grantaire’s hand on Eponine’s shoulder, the other hand on the tree, leaning in close to her out of necessity. Eponine breathed in once, staring at Grantaire’s neck. His coat was open and his v-neck shirt seemed to have slipped lower so that she could see the hair on his chest. Grantaire smelled warm like the alcohol that floated Eponine out of her heavy thoughts. She looked up and saw that he was staring at her lips in a way that she found rather appealing. She brought her hands up around the back of his neck and pulled him down, slamming his lips onto hers. They kissed messily, lips slipping over each other and saliva mingling quite liberally. Eponine brought one of her hands to Grantaire’s waist, slipping it up under his coat and shirt. None of it was very coordinated but it just felt so good to have skin touching skin, to be in such close proximity with another human being.  
Grantaire broke away first. “Why are we doing this?”  
Eponine shrugged. “I don’t know. Please kiss me some more.” He did, quite gladly, bringing himself closer and putting an arm around her waist so that they were pressed together up against a tree as close as they could be just because it felt good.  
Grantaire broke away again and Eponine groaned. “I love Enjolras.” He said.  
“I know.” Eponine replied, “And I love Marius. Can we keep making out now?”  
Grantaire looked puzzled for little more than a second then started kissing Eponine again. She carded her hands into his curls and breathed in the lovely smell of alcohol on his lips and his tongue. She knew what she was doing mostly or at least she thought she did. She was aware of the lack of love between them and that was honestly fine with her. Skin felt good and lips felt good and it was generally an all-around good idea at the time.


	2. To Be Needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine wakes up next to a pile of grumbles and curls

The sound of heavy feet and loud voices running along the hallway outside reluctantly woke Eponine from her heavy sleep. She groaned, frowned, stretched, and found her leg hitting a lump at her side. There was another body curled up against her torso, one arm over her bare stomach. She appeared to have fallen asleep in only her bra and her underwear. The body next to her twitched, curling itself tighter around her, messy black curls and stubble rubbing against her skin.

  
“Grantaire?” Eponine mumbled. The curls didn’t move. She put her hand on his head and shook him a bit, trying again louder this time. “Grantaire.”

  
“Mm?” Grantaire responded by turning his head up out of Eponine’s side, squinting at the sunlight coming out of the window, trying to turn over to his other side and subsequently falling out of the small bed with a loud thump, taking all the covers with him.

  
Eponine laughed but Grantaire seemed to keep on sleeping. That man could sleep through a battle field, Eponine would have bet her life on it. She stepped out of the bed and over Grantaire who just curled up tighter under his blankets. Out of her dresser, Eponine pulled out an oversized Harvard shirt and tugged on a pair of sweatpants. The idea of decency was probably past them at this point but nonetheless…

  
Eponine went to the sink, filled her electric kettle, and turned it on. She leaned against her desk and watched Grantaire sleep on the floor. She couldn’t see anything other than his toes as he was wrapped quite firmly in the blanket but she guessed that he was probably wearing pants. Hopefully wearing pants.

  
Only then did she finally allow herself to think about what exactly had happened last night.

  
It was a Friday evening and both of them found themselves alone in the dorm. Everyone else seemed to have a date of some kind: Marius with Cosette, Bossuet and Joly with Musichetta, Jehan with Montparnasse, Courf and Combeferre with Enjolras’ intimate and complex ideas for social revolution on campus. Even Gavroche had found a date.

  
So when they met in the hallway, Grantaire gestured to his stash of alcohol and Eponine happily obliged. They spent a good hour complaining about everything and nothing, or more accurately one or two things in particular. Whose names happened to be Marius and Enjolras.

  
“Why can’t I stop it makes no sense and Cosette is a sweetheart but I just don’t get it I knew him first we were friends we were close I don’t get it why does it hurt so-”

  
“If he kicks me out of the building one more time I’m going to punch him in the face or kiss him one of the other I don’t know which one is a better idea probably neither but goddammit it’s all my fault it’s not his fault but it fucking should be fucking dammit f-”

  
“Why am I a fucking idiot that’s all I’m asking? And why is he a fucking idiot? I mean he’s fucking oblivious to absolutely everything that goes on that fucking fuck I hate him so m-”

  
“Should I just throw myself off a building? I should just throw myself off a building. He would probably still look at me like I was the one at fault… fuck it all pass me the booze.”

  
In the light of the morning, the entire conversation just blurred together. Eponine couldn’t even remember if she’d actually been listening to anything Grantaire said.

  
Then Eponine suggested they make out. They tried, really they did but Grantaire kept closing his eyes and mumbling “Enjolras” whenever they broke apart at which point Eponine would untangle herself from his curls and flick him on the forehead. They eventually gave up because tonight Eponine really didn’t like the thought of being the replacement for some blonde god with a stick up his ass. And Grantaire could hardly blame her plus he wasn’t really in the mood in the first place and was having a hard time restraining himself from throwing glass bottles at the wall.

  
So they settled for a game of strip go fish because Grantaire didn’t actually know how to play poker even though he pretended he did and Eponine’s poker face wasn’t working though it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.

  
By the look of it they had both passed out on Eponine’s bed and now it was noon on a Saturday which was far too early for Grantaire to be awake but at this point Eponine didn’t care. She poured herself a mug of tea then went over and kicked the lump on her floor.

  
“Time to get up, sunshine.” She said. Grantaire groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. She reached down and quickly grabbed the blanket away from Grantaire and all the way off him. Then she discovered that she had won strip go fish.

  
“J-esus.” She laughed and put her face in her hand.

  
“Fuck!” Grantaire was shivering, wrapping his arms around himself. “Fuck you I’m cold give me the blanket back!”

  
“Only if you promise to get off my floor and get a move on.” Eponine said, taking her hand away from her eyes and looking only at Grantaire’s face.

  
“Yes okay fine.” She handed him the blanket and he wrapped it around himself before standing up. “Where did I put my clothes?”

  
Eponine shrugged and they rummaged around for a second to find his pants under her bed and his shirt over her lamp. Apparently he hadn’t worn anything under the pants which made her winning at strip go fish a bit less triumphant.

  
Grantaire grabbed the bottle of vodka in which there was still a quarter of a bottle left at the bottle. “Do you want it?”

  
“Nah take it. You gonna be okay getting back to your room?” Eponine asked.

  
“It’s down the hallway… I’m not that incapable.”

  
“Hey, you never know. You once almost choked to death on a raisin.”

  
“Well I’m significantly more sober at this point thank you very much.”

  
Grantaire turned to leave but Eponine held him back.

  
“Thanks.” She said.

  
“For what?”

  
“For being here.”

  
Grantaire smiled. Eponine smiled back.

  
“Any time.” He said

  
Sometimes it just felt good to be needed.


	3. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a lovely night to go out drinking. Or is it?

Eponine’s room was always open to the troubles of ridiculous revolutionary boys. She often found herself with a room full of person: Jehan daydreaming about some girl, Joly complaining about Jehan, Gavroche trying to explain the appeal of his old action films, Enjolras bemoaning the system and his failed attempts at fighting it.

 

On this particular day, it was Grantaire who barged in without knocking.

 

“Good evening Eponine!” He seemed to be doing an impression of someone particularly grandiose and upper class, separating each syllable of his words. “I was sitting around pondering the meaning of existence and the like when I thought to myself ‘I wonder what time it is?’ And as it turns out it’s a time that has numbers in it so time to go drinking! I found a great new bar downtown come with me.” He finished his speech quite inelegantly and dropped his weight on one hand on Eponine’s desk.

 

Eponine sighed. “Not tonight, R. It’s only Tuesday. And we have exams next week. Shouldn’t you be studying?”

 

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Blah studying. I know all the important things stuff what wine is good wine and where to find liquor cheap. What else could there possibly be to learn? Come on, Ep. Tonight, for me? I always go alone.” He was doing his best to make the biggest puppy dog eyes possible, leaning over the desk at which Eponine was working, his face getting frighteningly close to her.

 

“Grantaire?” Eponine frowned, worry moving to its spot between her eyes. Grantaire spoke in a friendly tone but his eyes looked deep and darker than usual, sunken into his skull. “Are you all right?”

 

Grantaire blinked then stood upright, looked away from Eponine’s face and stared at the wall. “I’m fine.”

 

“Are you sure? You can tell me, R. If you want.” She had turned her chair to face him but was hesitant about putting any kind of comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“I’m sure… Let’s go out then! Come on!” He grinned at her but that look in his eyes wouldn’t go away no matter how wide he forced his smile.

 

“Is it about Enjolras?” Eponine asked and immediately regretted it.

 

“No.” Grantaire said solemnly, his eyes burning.

 

Eponine swallowed. He was lying. She expected him to leave and slam the door. But instead he just looked at the floor and slumped quietly down onto her bed.

 

She waited for a moment but when he continued to say nothing, she got off her desk chair and went over to sit gently down beside him. Grantaire had his hands laced together between his knees and was staring at the floor, his shoulders hunched forward as if he was trying to curl in upon himself and disappear.

 

Eponine knew when silence was needed and so she gave it. The room hummed with the sound of movement in the hallways and the wind on the shutters until Grantaire finally opened his mouth.

 

“I’m an idiot.” Eponine said nothing. “I’m an idiot and I know it but it’s not like I can stop.” Grantaire gestured angrily at the wall.

 

Eponine tried to breathe past the lump in her throat. How many times had she lain in bed, telling herself the same things, cursing herself with salty tears on her lips and terribly unattractive hiccupping sobs?

 

Eponine and Grantaire knew they felt the same things. They even talked about these things, complained loudly about them, laughed loudly about them, drank loudly about them, but they never dared mention how real and terrible it was.

 

Grantaire put his head in his hands, tugging at his hair as if to pull it out, dragging his nails along his skull as if to rip it open, as if that would help at all, let all his emotions come spilling out into the open where they were raw and unwanted, bruised and battered. “Fuck.” Grantaire hissed through gritted teeth.

 

Eponine bit her lip and tried not to let tears well up in her own eyes. She was not Grantaire and she knew that. For one, she didn’t need alcohol to survive and she didn’t feel the need to be obnoxious at every opportunity. But the bags under his eyes looked like hers, his uneven and choked breathing sounded like hers, his pain felt like hers. She could feel the headache that must be building up behind his held back tears and so she put her arm around his shoulders. She leaned in closer to him and squeezed tight, not bothering to say a word because she knew that at times like these words didn’t matter.

 

Eponine had always wanted someone to hold her when she was at her worst, when she spoke a name on every breath and each whisper felt like it made her breath grow shallower. She had wanted someone to hold her when she felt like a lovesick idiot, like a fool for loving someone she knew she would never have, for loving someone she didn’t need. She wanted to believe that she could take care of herself so she cried alone.

 

Eponine wanted someone to hold her so she held other people: Gavroche when he was 6 and their father had hit him for the first time and told him that he was useless, Jehan when he thought for a moment that he had lost his ability to write. Tonight she held Grantaire, his broad shoulders barely fitting beneath her arm.

 

Finally, his breathing quieted. Eponine heard him whisper something into his hands which she didn’t quite hear.

 

“It’s all right, it’s okay.”

 

“I love him.” Grantaire whispered again.

 

Eponine squeezed him tighter. “It’s okay let it all out.”

 

He breathed out then in deeply before saying, a bit louder. “I love him when I’m drunk and I love him when I’m sober and I don’t want to love him but I do. And I know he won’t love me, he can’t love me, not like I love him and I don’t want him to change for me. It shouldn’t matter but it does and I’m an idiot and I love him.” Grantaire was still staring at the floor, hadn’t had the strength to look Eponine in the face.

 

“Fuck that, Grantaire.” Eponine said, using the arm that wasn’t wrapped around his shoulders to gently stroke his upper arm.

 

He made a kind of choking laugh and looked up at her. “What?”

 

“Fuck that. You’re not an idiot and it’s okay that you love him and it does matter and it can matter if it matters to you. I can’t make it better but you’re not an idiot and I know for a fact at one hundred percent accuracy that Enjolras cares about you, worries about you, about you especially you ridiculous drunk. And that’s all there is too it.”

 

“I know he doesn’t care you don’t have to lie to me.” Grantaire laughed weakly, looking back down at the floor.

 

“Oh shut up.” Eponine said, shaking him. “He does care. Not like you care because honestly you care about him more than I have ever seen anyone care about anyone. It’s beautiful to be honest. But Enjolras does care, in the only way a passionate idiot like him can. I promise.”

 

Grantaire lifted his eyes and finally caught Eponine’s gaze. His red eyes were wide and hurting but they made Eponine smile in recognition all the same. He smiled back at her and took her hand without taking his eyes away from her face.

 

“Thank you.” He whispered.

 

“Anytime” she said then breathed in and out deeply, trying to keep her own tears at bay.

 

Grantaire grabbed her up into a hug that landed a little bit awkwardly since they were sitting right next to each other. But Eponine just shifted and stuffed her head into Grantaire’s shoulder and held him as tight as he was holding her. She breathed, enjoying the tightness of feeling someone’s body pressed against yours and hearing someone’s heartbeat resonate through your chest. Letting go of the hug was slow and reluctant. Eponine watched Grantaire continue to stare at the floor. But when he looked up he was smiling with stupid sad eyes.

 

Then he frowned slightly, bringing his hand up to cradle her cheek. Eponine looked puzzled for a few seconds before Grantaire kissed her softly on the mouth. She kissed him back almost immediately, happy for the thanks and gratitude, for the proximity of another human being.

 

Of course Grantaire, always worried at having overstepped his rights, pulled away first. “I’m sorry.”

 

Eponine laughed. “It’s fine.”

 

Grantaire’s hands dropped from her shoulders. She turned to sit back against her bed again, letting her head drop backwards onto the sheets and letting out a sigh.

 

“Yeah me too.” Grantaire said. Ponine laughed and turned her head to look at him. He was staring off into space again and Eponine let him. After all, it was all right if he wasn’t perfectly fine. Eponine closed her eyes and let the sound of her breathing mingle with Grantaire’s. It was okay to be upset. And it was always okay to cry.


	4. One by One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've found a harmony, I suppose.

“Can we do this when we’re not drunk?” Grantaire asked one day after a kiss and three or four beers each.

Eponine dropped her hand from his curls to his neck. She shrugged and smiled. “Yeah. Yeah I think we can. Sometimes I need to kiss someone I care about or I’ll go mad. It doesn’t matter whether or not I’m drunk. In fact, I don’t think drunk is exactly the best state for you all the time.”

Grantaire laughed and shifted Eponine so that she was sitting on his lap with her hands around his neck. “Great.” He said before kissing her again. His lips tasted warm and fleshy, comforting, and Eponine imagined what they might taste like without the small familiar bite of alcohol. Eponine smiled into the kiss, her stomach warm, the emotions running through her spine reminding her that she was alive and it was okay to feel things. Grantaire’s hands were all over her back and her waist and she liked that, didn’t even bother imagining they were Marius’ hands because Grantaire’s hands were friendly and large and a little bit clumsy but they were real and there.

Grantaire was there and that’s why she was kissing him. But she wasn’t settling for less than Marius. No absolutely not. She wasn’t giving herself some kind of terrible rebound out of pity. She was allowing herself to be in the arms of someone who cared about her, perhaps with a different love than the one she longed for but a love nonetheless. And there is one thing about love that is known universally to be true. It can’t possibly be wasted. Grantaire reached up and took Eponine’s hand out of his hair, weaving their fingers together, tangled in each other’s breath. She smiled into the kiss, then broke away, resting her forehead on Grantaire’s.

“You’re better at this with less alcohol in your system.” Eponine said.

“Don’t get used to it.” Grantaire replied, eliciting a laugh as Eponine rested her head on his chest.

Love is not an exhaustible resource. Love grows.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not know "mutually unrequited" was a tag and I don't know if it means what I want it to mean but there it is. It's basically a friendship +kissing. More to come. The title is clearly not in reference to how they feel about each other.


End file.
